


Melody

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caretaking, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All that stands between Dean and freedom is one skanky witch. He just has to hold on. Sam and Cas will find him. They will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Co-wrote this with nybors on twitter as a round robin and had way more fun than I was expecting!

Dean glares at the tiny window, the sole source of light in the tiny room. He can't even get close enough to feel a small breeze from outside, chained to the wall as he is. Just a few more inches and he'd be able to at least catch a glimpse of the world outside. But all he can see is the same patch of sky he's been staring at for the past five weeks.

Slowly, he's beginning to believe he'll never leave. That he'll never see Cas or Sam again, even if he does manage to get out somehow. He's said it before and he'll say it again. He freakin' hates witches.

The back of his head taps the wall in frustration and he freezes when something behind the door taps back. He waits, breath curling in his lungs, for a long moment before there's an almost hesitant tap.

He grins. Maybe there _is_ hope.

His first attempt to speak ends in coughing he tries to stifle. His throat is just to dry, though, and he dissolves into a coughing fit before he gets it under control. After several minutes of hackin up his throat, which has gone largely unused after his initial rage in the first few days. He finally manages to get out a weak, and very shaky, "'llo?" that's little more than a desperate rasp.

He won't be singing anybody to sleep any time soon. Whoever's on the other side pauses a beat before he hears a relatively clear "Dean?"

His heart jumps in his throat so fast, he thinks he might've swallowed his tongue. "Sam?"

No. Nono. Sam can't be _here _. They can't have him, too. Not his Sammy. He must have paused too long, because Sam calls his name again, sounding more panicky than surprised this time. He does his best through the thick walls to make sure Sam knows he's there and breathing and not likely to die in the next twenty seconds.__

"'M ok," he chokes out, clears his throat, tries again. "I'm ok. Sam, what the hell happened?"

He's pressing his back against the wall, trying not to panic at Sam being here when the scraping at the door starts. Weakly, he scrambles to put up a brave front as the door creaks open. The witch (disgusting old hag, he thinks again) sets aside the plank used to keep the door shut with a pinched look that becomes clear when Sam strolls in behind her, Beretta pointed levelly at her head.

Dean breaks out in a relieved grin. "Sam, how-"

He's interrupted by the deafening crack of the gun going off. He blinks but doesn't have long to be confused, as Sam's pulling him up and away so he can get a clear shot at the anchor holding Dean to the wall. As soon as that's done, he shoves the Beretta in the back of his jeans and wraps both arms around his brother, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck, "God, Dean. Thought I'd lost you."

Dean can feel Sam trembling against him, though his voice is strained but steady. He tries to force his arms to obey, to latch onto Sam and never let go but after so long in the restricting chains, the most he can manage is a weak palm against Sam's hip.

"We should go," he rasps, "Where's Cas?"

Sam hangs on for another long moment before nodding and stepping back two inches.

"He's clearing the house, making sure there's nothing we missed. He-" Sam's interrupted by the sudden appearance of the angel in question. Dean turns to him with a small smile.

Cas looks like shit.

So does Sam, Dean realizes as his brain starts functioning again. Cas marches towards him with his serious face seconds before Dean's wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

"You're too careless with your safety, Dean. If you continue getting yourself into these predicaments, Sam and I will have to think of a suitable punishment."

Dean laughs breathlessly and leans further into Cas, swallowing around the cough that's sitting in his throat. Sam comes up behind him and wraps his coat around his trembling shoulders.

"We've got you now, Dean. 'S okay."

He huffs.

"I know that, dumbass." But it's nice to hear.

*~~~*

Dean doesn't remember the trip back to the roach motel, but considering it's via Angel Air, it's not surprising.

Sam immediately forces Dean to sit on the bed as he bustles about. Dean watches him dig out clean clothes and toiletries from his perch and idly wonders if he'll wake back up in that hole again tomorrow.

"Hey, Sammy?" He smiles best he can when Sam looks up. "Could really go for some actual food."

Sam drops the toothbrush "Oh my god I forgot, I'm sorry I-"

Cas interrupts, mouth quirking up "I'll try and find something suitably greasy and meaty." And with a nod to Sam, Cas disappears.

Sam still looks vaguely guilty and Dean rolls his eyes at him. "Seriously? Get over here." Sam slinks over and presses himself up against Dean's side.

"We were both duped, Sam. This isn't your fault." He buries his face in Sam's hair and breathes. Runs a hand down Sam's back. "It's ok. You got me back."

Sam starts shaking again and Dean's scared he's gonna cry, so he gathers him in his arms the best he can and rolls them both til he's half under his giant of a baby brother.

"I got you. I got you," Dean whispers, ignoring his own protesting body and the welling of emotions. Sam calms though, nuzzling under Dean's jaw.

"Scared me, Dean," he mumbles as his fingertips dig into Dean's chest slightly.

"I know, Sammy. Not going anywhere, kay?" He presses a kiss against Sam's hair.

Sam snorts softly. "I should be the one comforting you."

Dean shrugs as best he can while suffocating. "I like this better."

*~~~*

The angel comes back just as Sam decides to pull back, a bag that decidedly doesn't smell like burgers and fries in one hand.

"Soup, Dean," Cas says. "Your system won't handle burgers well yet. Are we cuddling?" He nods at the tangled brothers. Dean laughs then coughs, biting his lip against a fit of them. When he calms, he motions for the bottle of water and then drags Cas to the bed with a tug on his sleeve.

"I can't believe you got me fuckin' soup", he grumbles pitifully. Cas huffs, but sits on his other side and takes the bowl of soup from the bag, handing it and a spoon over to Sam. Dean glares at the two of them til Sam pointedly looks at him.

"We can wait as long as you can, Dean. Just means you have to wait longer to shower and shave that rather gnarly beard."

"Dude shut up," he snarks and goes to shove him. He bites off a groan. His arms feel like lead. He sticks his tongue out at Sam's snicker before relenting, "You guys better give me a massage so I can use my arms again. So I can punch you."

They ignore him and he takes the high road by not spitting the soup all over Sam's side of the bed.

*~~~*

After a third of the bowl, he's having a much better time.

The blood starts circulating in his arms again, which hurt like hell until Cas starts rubbing them soothingly. Sam and Cas share a look over him and then they're lowering him to lie on the bed, stripping him slowly. He starts to protest but decides it really isn't worth it.

"I'll hold him steady if you wash and shave him," Sam offers. Cas nods and wanders into the bathroom, emerging with Dean's own shaving kit and a pitcher full of warm water.

Dean protests, rolling onto his side (he's not a little kid, and he can take his own damn shower, thank you very much) but his legs buckle under him as soon as he tries to stand and he lets himself be laid back down to be washed and taken care of.

When Sam's hand brushes through his hair, he gasps realizing how much he'd missed the sensation. Sam notices and smiles gently down at him, running his hand through his hair again as Cas moves down, working knots out of underutilized legs. Dean really wants to sleep, but he needs to be sure that they're still here, that no one is going anywhere.

He leans into their touches, finally starting to relax for the first time in five weeks (fuckin skank ass witches) and doesn't even realize he's asleep til he's lifted and slid under the covers Sam and Castiel smile down at him before shedding their clothes and sliding in, wrapping their arms around him so he can't thrash in the night and knock awry the few bandages he'd needed. He sighs, face buried in Sam's bare chest, hips cradled in Cas' hands and feels all the tenseness flowing out of his muscles.

They'll keep the nightmares away, they'll keep watch, and he can trust that they won't let him disappear again.


End file.
